


Madly in Love

by cloudofdreams



Category: Original Work
Genre: Assassin - Freeform, F/M, Murder, Serial Killer, Stalker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 03:09:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16845949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudofdreams/pseuds/cloudofdreams
Summary: Leonore Clovis is an assassin who works and studies hard to become a surgeon.Killian Lark is a serial killer who has fallen in love with the way Leonore kills her targets.And now he will court her as a serial killer would: through murder.





	Madly in Love

Robert Smith was a dead man.

 _Would_ be a dead man.

Her employer had already given the coordinates of her target’s house, all she needed to do was slip in and twist a knife to his gut. Simple but messy. She would make it look like a robbery and mess the house a little bit.

She would have to investigate the man first, however. She would need to know his schedule, his family, friends, the layout of his house, and all the other information she needed to be able to catch him alone.

And after a job well done, she would get her money.

But first, she needed to study for her upcoming exams.

Midterms were coming and Leonore Clovis was not a student who lazed around. _Especially_ as a med student.

She had dreamed of becoming an actress before, had dreamed of imitating emotions for the fun of it, but because of her current profession, she now enjoyed cutting people up more. In other words, she now dreamed of becoming a surgeon.

It was hard work, of course, becoming a surgeon.

And expensive.

It was the reason she had agreed to her current profession, why she had agreed to be part of the business of killing. Tuition fees in her country were no joke and she had no more family to lean on.

Well— that was _her_ fault, anyway.

She had killed her family.

But she hadn’t done it for no reason! She had to _feel_ something besides the emptiness that filled her being. She had thought that she could steal, or at least borrow, her family’s happiness by taking it from them.

Apparently not.

A person couldn’t steal another’s emotions no matter how many times they had killed. It didn’t work that way.

The only positive thing that had come out of murdering her entire family was that the organization found her that way. They had seen her potential and trained her.

So now here she was, filthy rich and was attending one of the most prestigious medical schools in the world.

Contentment was an emotion, she supposed.

Contentment was studying human anatomy at two in the morning.

Leonore yawned and stretched her arms over her head. Then she slammed her face against her book.

 _So tired_.

If she took a fifteen-minute nap, would it really be for fifteen minutes or would she wake up late for school?

She groaned.

A few seconds later, she snored.

* * *

Robert Smith lived in 1753 Hallidale Street. Across from it was a café, perfectly convenient for spying.

There she sat in a table outside the café, a novel in her hand and a coffee in the other. She took a sip and her eyes glanced at the house.

Casual and definitely not suspicious.

Over the next few days, she observed the people going to and fro the house as she was able while still attending medical school. She skipped classes on different hours so she could learn the Smith family’s schedule.

“Hello there, Miss Clovis,” a voice next to her said.

Alarmed that someone knew her around here, she turned her head toward the voice and met dark eyes and hair. She recognized that lean build and smooth-shaven face.

 _Oh_. Leonore sighed in relief inside.

It was just her neighbor.

He took a seat to the table next to hers. “I see you have heard of the delectable coffee of this shop,” he began.

Her lips curled into an amused smile. “Mr. Lark, it’s nice you see you here,” she lied.

He chuckled and said, “We’ve been neighbors for months now. Please call me Killian.”

“Only if you call me Leonore.”

Killian raised his cup of coffee to her. “Of course, Leonore.”

She laid her book on the table, giving her neighbor some of her attention, as it was the polite thing to do. Her eyes met his but she still made sure that the house was still in her peripheral vision.

“What brings you here, besides the coffee?” she asked. Small talk was polite no matter how much she would rather ignore him.

Killian shrugged. “Oh, I just visited a friend nearby.” He looked around, searching for something, before he saw the Smith house. He nodded to it. “Nice house.”

“Yes, it was.”

It was nothing special, to be honest.

She didn’t know the layout yet. She planned on breaking in at two in the afternoon, when everyone in the Smith family was away. She would rather kill the whole family to finish the job faster but her employer firmly stated that only Robert Smith was to die and no one else.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, reminding her that her time of reconnaissance was up. She had to attend her next class.

She stood up and packed her novel into her backpack. She gave Killian an apologetic look and said, “Sorry but I have to go.”

He nodded. “Take care.”

She finished her cup of coffee, downing it in one go. “You too.”

At that time, she didn’t think that she would meet him again in the most unexpected circumstances.

She didn’t think that she would meet him again while he was killing Robert Smith.

But two days before that, she ‘bumped’ into Robert Smith’s wife, Clara Smith, while the woman was unloading groceries from her van.

“Let me help you,” Leonore said as she removed her earphones from her ears. She sometimes pretended to be jogging around the street to get a glimpse of the house and its occupants.

Clara thanked her and accepted her help.

Her plan succeeded and she was finally inside the house. She had already broken inside but it didn’t hurt to double check.

She chatted with the lady and Clara was more than forthcoming. She said that Robert was usually in his study when he was at home and that she and the kids would be staying at her mother’s for a while.

That would be the perfect time for an assassination.

So she slipped in at night by unlocking the backdoor with a duplicate key. It was pathetically easy to break into the house that she wondered why the person who ordered his death hadn’t just done it himself.

Well, it wasn’t like she was in this profession because she was interested in answers. She was here for the money, like everybody else.

 _And_ the disguises.

She got to be a nurse, a maid, a bartender, and many others in her profession. Currently, she was a substitute maid for the woman who was supposed to be cleaning the house but was knocked out cold in some alley instead. She had taken the key from the maid.

She played with her knife, twirling it, catching it from one hand to the other. Her gun bounced from the holster behind her as she walked. Whistling would have been appropriately fun if it wouldn’t have alarmed Robert to her presence.

Then she heard it.

A blood-curdling scream.

 _Someone else is here_.

“Why… are you-” Robert gives out a wet cough. “-doing this?”

Leonore tiptoed to the study, curious to see who hurt her target.

She wasn’t worried that another person would see her. She could always dispose of them quickly, that was the beauty of a gun, but this was the first time that someone interfered with her work and now she wondered about the reason.

_Wow. A lot of people want this guy dead._

Talk about bad luck.

“Come on,” another voice said. “Scream louder.”

It sounded strangely familiar.

She sheathed her knife and equipped her gun instead. The safety lock was released and she glimpsed the door to the study.

The door was slightly ajar. From what she could see, blood splattered the bookshelves that were against the wall. With that amount of blood, Robert Smith would be dead in a couple of minutes.

Whoever the other person was behind that door was a messy killer.

Leonore grinned and an excited shiver went through her spine.

People who kill for fun had always been an interesting read and conversation.

She had assassinated a few serial killers in her time and they always offered the most interesting stories. They had told her about their history, how they felt whenever they saw the light go out from their victim’s eyes, and all the other messed up things they could tell her.

Some did it for the thrill. They measured how much more they could get away with before the police caught them.

Most of them weren’t afraid of death, too, which only made Leonore’s job easier. They didn’t struggle or scream for help like most of her targets.

She cocked her head to the side.

Should she talk with the other guy? He may or may not be friendly.

Well, friendly or not, she had a gun.

Whimpers and cries echoed throughout the hall and Leonore winced at the noises. If the other guy let this continue then Robert’s neighbors might call the cops.

She stepped in front of the door, still debating whether to show herself or not. If she continued loitering, she might just get caught.

Then the killer spoke.

“On second thought, your voice is annoying,” he said. “Shut up and I might let you live.”

Killian Lark.

The voice belonged to Killian Lark.

That was decided then.

She would introduce herself.

“Hello?” Leonore knocked on the door. It slightly slid open from the knocks. “Do you need any help?”

“YES! PLEASE! HELP ME!” Robert screamed. “SOMEONE IS TRYING TO- TO KILL ME!”

Wailing could be heard and she sighed. “I’m talking to the other guy. I’m talking to Killian.”

Footsteps. Then the door opened to a grinning Killian. His blue shirt was stained and he was holding a knife, his fingers up to his forearm bloodied.

“Well, if it isn’t my neighbor, Leonore!” he greeted. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Hello.” She waved her gun. “I’m here to kill him too but it seems you got here first.”

He chuckled. “Sorry about that.” He wiped his left hand on his pants, the on less bloodied, and raised it for her to shake. “Fellow serial killer?”

She took it, then wiped it also on his to clean it. “I guess?” Technically, she was. She wouldn’t tell him that she was an assassin, though. She wasn’t that stupid. “Why are you killing him?”

Robert crawled over to his desk, blood staining all over the floor and carpet. He groaned in pain before stopping for a bit, resting his wounds, then he went back to crawling.

Killian glanced at him before going back to Leonore. He shrugged. “I wanted to feel good.”

Serial killers were weirdos, too.

She nodded to Robert. “He’s going for the phone. He’ll call the cops.”

Killian rolled his eyes. “ _Everyone_ calls the cops.” Then he turned around to address the bleeding man. “Touch that phone and I’ll cut your fingers.”

Robert whimpered, but he stopped moving toward the phone. “Please! I’ll do anything- I- I’ll give you money- anything at all!”

Killian scoffed. “I’m not interested in your money. That’s just insulting.” He went back to her. “Want a go at him?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m good.” She pointed to somewhere behind her. “I’m just going to rough up the house so it looks like a robbery.”

He waved at her. “Okay. Have fun!”

He went back to torturing the poor man. It looked like her neighbor, Killian Lark, was a sick bastard, judging from the sounds emanating from the study. Leonore would have done it quickly and efficiently. But then again, she only enjoyed the kill when her target was a happy person.

She observed them from afar, imitated their actions sometimes, and when she drove her knife through them or shot them on the head, she felt as if she was absorbing their emotions.

That was how she did it anyway.

She wondered what killing did for her neighbor.

While Robert was screaming murder in the study, she used her time wisely by ransacking the house.

She put on some gloves and began pulling drawers from cabinets and end tables, she pulled clothes from their wardrobe, as if she were finding money that was hidden underneath the clothes—and she did find some. She pocketed them so it _would_ seem like a robbery. A homeless person would have a use for it later—and took some chips from the kitchen.

“You finished yet?” She returned to the study, munching on some chips. “We have to go. The neighbors will have heard his screams.”

Robert was quieter now but he still fought to stay conscious. He leaned against his desk, his breath stuttering and his eyelids fluttering.

A few minutes more and he would say goodbye to the world.

And what an ugly goodbye it was. Leonore almost felt sorry for the man.

Killian stood across from Robert and stared at him hungrily. His eye didn’t stray from Robert’s face, fixated on the process of his death. “I still have to see him die. That’s what I came here for.”

She didn’t particularly care what happened to him but warning a fellow killer from the cops was the right thing to do. Though perhaps her warning was unneeded. Killian was a big boy.

Leonore shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m getting out of here.”

At that, Killian tor his gaze away from Robert. He said, “Would you like to have coffee with me?”

She furrowed her brows. “Now?” Then she gestured to his clothes. “You’ll stand out if we go out with those clothes of yours though.”

And more importantly, she would rather study for the night. She had skipped too many classes because of her job, which happened way too much, to her displeasure.

He laughed. “Oh, I didn’t mean tonight.” He smiled at her, showing his dimples. “Maybe tomorrow?”

She looked at him from head to toe, evaluating his looks, because if she evaluated his personality, it would definitely be a ‘no’ from her. Judging from Robert’s screams earlier, he sounded like a sick and crazy person.

Dimples. Well-groomed hair. Sharp jaw. Muscled arms.

“Okay,” she said. “Where?”

He winked. “The café across from his house.”

Oh, and a sense of humor! She might like her upcoming date with this serial killer after all.

She grinned. “It’s a date then.”

She turned around and left. Behind her, Robert gasped his final breaths.  


End file.
